Chapter I

The doors to The Ninth Circle flung open violently. I would have been concerned, had I not seen the doors sling inward on their hinges like that before. Only one person was dumb enough to burst in here without being afraid I'd tear their fingers off.

The girl slammed the doors behind herself, the sound harshly striking my right eardrum and sounding muffled in my left, the more battered of the two.

"Hi, Charon!" chimed a tiny, feminine, human voice. It was her, the... curious one who barraged me with questions, even though I could never answer.

I looked down, and my eyes met two sparkling, almond-shaped emeralds. A beatific smile spread across her bloodied heart-shaped face, a thin stream of blood running from her lower lip to her chin. A lock of hair as red as that blood fell across her face and rested on her small, freckled nose.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," I said simply, nodding toward the bar a few feet away.

"I know, I know! But-" she began, rifling through a satchel at her side, balancing precariously as her heavy backpack threatened to fall off one shoulder. She lifted her free hand and pressed it to her now-bleeding nose.

I took her by her slender shoulders before she could topple over and get her blood all over Ahzrukhal's floor. I took a final, fleeting look at her bewildered face, feeling my employer's eyes on me. He knew I was lingering on it for too long. "Talk. To. Ahzrukhal."

My overly-gentle grip tightened slightly as I turned her to face the bar. My hands slid from her shoulders, and she walked to the nearest stool, removing her backpack and sitting down.

She quickly began to converse with Ahzrukhal, and he slid a bottle of wine, a few stimpaks, and two bottles of whiskey across the counter. The girl absently ran her fingers along the red velvet rope by her left side as she started to ask about me, excitedly grinning. Last time she was here, about a week or two ago, she'd asked pretty much the same questions.

A thud from the next room caught my attention, and I was loathe to leave my usual spot in the corner. By the time I got back, she'd probably be gone, and she was the only thing around this place that wasn't routine and repetitive.

Lying on the floor in the room that contained Ahzrukhal's bed was an unconscious Patchwork, passed out by one of the tables. I picked him up by his shirt, feeling the rotting fabric begin to tear and then give way, ripping with a harsh sound. The drunk fell to the floor, one of his stitched-on fingers breaking off at the first joint and dripping blood on Ahzrukhal's floor. I had a feeling Ahzrukhal would make me scrub that part of the floor until it shone, regardless of the fact that it had been filthy before. According to him, blood made things look unprofessional in here.

The sound of hundreds of bottle caps clanking together and a small exclamation from Ahzrukhal emanated from the next room. The girl couldn't be dumb enough to rob him, could she?

I drew my shotgun and rushed back to the bar, regretting that I'd have to kill the most unpredictable aspect of my life, the only thing I found interesting.

The strange sight that met my eyes when I stepped into the threshold caused me to both lower my gun and raise what was left of an eyebrow.

Ahzrukhal was drooling over a huge pile of what had to be at least a couple thousand caps that had been poured out on the counter, and the girl was beaming, white teeth flashing between her still-bleeding lips.

"Charon!" she exclaimed excitedly as her pale hand dove into her now-emptied satchel.

"Talk to-"

"Slow down, there," she giggled, a sound I hadn't heard anyone make in years, "I have good news. I'm your new employer!" She pulled a familiar, battered piece of paper from the satchel, apparently the only thing she'd had in there after emptying it of caps.

"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" I asked, eyeing that paper I despised so much, feeling the urge to tear it to pieces and knowing I couldn't. "So, I am no longer in his service." I felt a perverse satisfaction at these words. "That is good to know." I couldn't even count the number of years I'd waited for this.

The girl, finally noticing the profusely bleeding gash on her lip, awkwardly lifted the collar of her tank top and placed it between her lips, holding it in place with her teeth while she rummaged through her pack.

"Please, wait here, " I said, and she looked at me questioningly, still biting down on her collar. I began to walk forward and added, "I must take care of something."

I stepped in front of Ahzrukhal, and he lifted his head a little, his eyes still on all those caps. I looked at him, my expression asking all the questions for me, but nonetheless, said, "Ahzrukhal, I am told I am no longer in your service."

"That's right, Charon," he began, and I felt my rage start to boil as he pronounced my name as if it were Sharon for the thousandth time. He continued, "Have you come to say goodbye?"

"Yes." I fired my shotgun, and his head exploded, his brains and blood splattering on his safe and the refrigerator. I shot again. Overkill. It felt good.

The girl gulped and reached for the .44 on her hip as if she felt she'd be next.

"Alright, let's go."

He emerald eyes met mine, fringed with long eyelashes the same color as her hair. I became aware that she had dark circles under her eyes, as if she'd been up for days. She pulled her collar from her mouth and blinked once, injecting herself with a stimpak. She calmly and quietly looked at me, seriously assessing my actions from a moment ago. Suddenly, she beamed, her pouty soft pink lips now healed with no trace of the wound that plagued them before, "Sounds good. Let's get out of here."

"As you wish," I said, a faint smile playing on my rotten lips.